Personal Nightmare
by Envo
Summary: "If you are the nightmare, don't wake me up from you."


Disclaimer: Do not own Naruto.

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Muscles quivering and skin tingling, she collapses bonelessly as she recovers from the latest mass assault to her senses. Breaths leave her parted lips in short, rapid gasps, but her thundering heartbeat easily drown out rest of the noises. Her hair, most likely rumpled and loosens from its original updo, are grazing her jaw line and brushing at her neck in teasing strokes as she catches her breath. Nerves, unbelievably sensitive, jump at the sliding sheet of silk against her thighs and the insides of her knees as she shifts in attempt to ease the tensed muscles in her legs. The warmth in her belly settles, and her limbs slack from its previous taunt state. Thoroughly spent and sated, she simply let the lingering sensations wash over her like soft currents as she slowly comes down from her peak.

Light like the morning rays shining on her eyelid begins to build in increasing intensity on the back of her eyelids. Aggravated by the annoyance that disrupts her languid moment of bliss, she instinctively shies away from the insistent assail, but something in the back of her mind nudges adamantly at her in awareness.

_Her time is up._

Her tongue darts out to wet her dry lips, only to have said appendage captured by a pair of thin lips and swirled into a hot, moist cavern. Eyes flies open at the deliberate strokes of flesh against flesh, and wide orbs of peridot meets half-massed pools of ruby in the backdrop of midnight. Teethes nibble at her lower lip and tongues duel and slide in a war of dominance, her apprehension is immediately swept away in a tidal wave of erotic fervor. A noise escapes from the back of her throat.

She is lost in a sea of sensation, and is utterly, completely at his mercy.

In her ear, a low hum begins to overtake the frenzy rush of her blood in her veins, the combined heartbeats of two, and the wet suckling of moistened lips and tongue. Vaguely aware of being shifted and aligned snugly against him, she braces her hand against strong biceps and waited out the turbulent storm of crazed ardor. It is a total abandonment of control, and she feels her conscious slowly slipping as he takes her surrendered reins into his hands, as the pair of mesmerizing scarlet eyes pulls her deep into its hypnotizing cocoon.

Feathers glide against her bareback just as her eyelids closes. Lethargy gathers over her like a vulture and picks away at her senses, dulling the world until there is only the entrance towards the world of unconsciousness. The feathering kisses are the last she felt before sleep wrenches her away from the silken duvet, the four-post bed and him, with his dark promise that always echoes in her mind even as she begins to wake.

_No one can haunt you but me, my little prey._

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Personal Nightmare

Envo

_"The most beautiful dream coming out of a nightmare" - Nancy Wood_

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The newest nightclub in town is nothing short of a sensation.

A fully equipped bar with the largest amount and variants of alcoholic drinks she's ever seen on a beverage list; a spacious dance floor catering towards the dancers and a DJ booth boasting only the best can compete. The club itself sports a cool color theme; the combination of dark pink, blues, purple and violet dominates the lightings of the place. Occasional white-lit plastic, cubic boxes serves as tables scatter throughout the outer circle of the dance floor, accompanied by black leather seats. Then there is the state of the art wine cabinet behind the bar that attracts the eyes of every newcomer. The high standard in elegance and taste in fashion comes, unsurprisingly, from her best friend of sixteen years thus far. Even with a members-only upon entrance, the waiting line outside the tinted doors seems to continue to grow as time slips into the early hours of morning. For all she knew, this place is just short from its maximum occupancy limit.

She watches the gyrating bodies with apathy from her seat.

The pounding rhythm hammers against her eardrum three beats faster than her heart. The atmosphere, warm from moving bodies, intermixes with the natural fragrance of the club and the scent of cologne, perfume, and sweat. The wet beads on the surface of a chilled glass send dots of light reflecting onto the dark, wooden floor. She eyes her remaining gin tonic dispassionately.

Something is wrong with her.

If not anything else, she is brutally honest with herself; dreaming up one hunk of a man suggests one thing, but having said dream progressing from a casual conversation to a full scale erotic content before she can blink is another matter all together.

She may not have a doctorate in psychology, but even she knows the breaking point between sanity and insanity. And having her dream featuring the same man for over eight months tells her she needs help, _desperately_.

The raving beat should have heated her blood with its repeating thumps, as it always had. The heightened mood of the wild crowd should be able to prompt her to simply let herself go and join the mass of dancing bodies, as she always did by dancing the night away. She should be the one down on the dance floor, socializing and enjoying herself, but here she sits at the edge of the ring, the furthest away from the attention of the club.

She can't feel the rush of the moment. The excitement is no longer there, and the idea of brushing skin against skin with someone else is now a foreign concept. The very thing she enjoys feeling seems to pale in comparison to what she feel in dream state. She can't fathom the reason why or how her nightly sleep evolves into a series of unspeakable events. It is wickedly sinful and she just can't suppress the shudder that overcomes her every time her thoughts land into _that_ area.

She hastily stops that train of thought before it can develop into something entirely inappropriate. Her hands unconsciously shifts into her jean's pocket and touches the slight bump there, its presence soothes her haywire mind back into place.

The internal struggle has taken place over two months. And after one near disastrous graveyard shift that almost lead to her humiliation of public indecency, she promptly made her decision. Waking up indecent when her clothes were trim and neat before her short doze in the resting area is an ordeal she only needed once in her lifetime. Needless to say, she switched her shift to the morning hours the day after, where her nightmare has no chance of haunting her. The sleeping pills in her pocket are merely a safeguard from a repeating incident, ensuring her dreamless sleep during the night.

And again, she stamps down the entirely unwanted longing of a certain man in her dreams whose name she doesn't even know. As much as she, dare she say it, enjoys his nightly company, this is for her own peace of mind, something she needs greatly in order to function properly. Already she is loosing her precious balance in the day; his eyes are all she can see in her waking hours. It goes without saying that her unhealthy obsession with her conjured phantom needs to be stopped… and she will start by having him disappear from her dreams.

Shoving the unpleasant thoughts away to the back of her mind, she drains the last of her alcoholic drink and pushes away from the high-end leather chair. Worming her way pass the horde gathering at the bar, she beams at her college classmate and bartender, placing the emptied glass on the bar.

"I'm done for the night, Choji. Where is Ino?" she shouts pass the pounding music.

Said bartender gives her a wide smile and points up towards the ceiling before adding his middle to his pointer finger. She nods in thanks and waves before turning away from the neon-lit bar.

Her heart seems to grow heavier with each step she takes towards the stairway to the second floor. She already made up her mind before coming here that she would put her uneasiness to rest tonight, so why are her insides twisting in hard knots? Why is she feeling this way—?

Then she stops dead in her track.

She can feel blood drain from her face as she struggles to understand what she is seeing. Desperate, she blinks and digs her fingers into her palm to feel the sting of pain, trying in vain to dispel the image before her very eyes. Her memories may be hazy, a jumble of sensations at certain points, but she would recognize the pair of glowing red eyes anywhere. But why is she seeing him now? She is here per order of her friend for the grand opening of the club on a Halloween night; she is not sleeping, and certainly not dreaming, so why…?

Bewildered and confused, she looks to the mass surrounding her. Someone has got to notice his unnaturally glowing, blood red eyes, right? Because it's either that, or she has simply lost it. But alas, the dancing crowds never stop to look at her personal plight. As a matter of fact, no one appears to even noticing her gaping like a fish out of water and sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of rhythmically moving bodies; they merely twirl around her as if she isn't here.

When her eyes return to the black-clad man, as if wearing the starless night itself, her heart nearly jumps up to her throat. He is closer, and he is _prowling_. Instincts shouts at her to run, to get away, but the signal somehow fails to transmit to her limbs as her traitorous feet remains rooted on the floor decorated with neon violet strips. She can only watch with wide-eyed fear as dread steady trickles into her immobile body. He was at the end of the room, silently watching her every move, and a blink brings him halfway across the dance floor. The remaining half, he stalks her like a giant cat closing in on its prey. Panic level rises as the mass mystically parted ways for the hunter, unbeknownst to them. Captured by his eyes, she sees a predator lurking beneath the human mask. This must be what it feels like for a lamb to be pinned under the hungry gaze of a wolf; she is his helpless prey.

Her trance breaks when the last inch disappears between them. Warm breath fans her cheeks as he towers over her. The distinctive, aristocratic features accompanied by doe-like eyes, framed with unbelievably long lashes showers him with an effeminate grace. Silky obsidian hair, secured with a leather stripe, flow gently down the front of his right shoulder. But none of which manages to suppress the unmistakable dark aura surrounding his person. This man is danger personified, something she couldn't forget even in her dreams.

Beats of music and the warming air takes a step back into the milieu as he languidly leans towards her. She feels his hair brushing against her temples and the teasing glide of his lips against the shell of her ear. Then she almost jumped at the tiny throb of pain as his teeth closes over the rim of her ear in punishment, followed closely by a long swirling lap to sooth the ache.

She should feel embarrassed by the public display of intimacy, not to mention it being administered by her unrealistic mania. Where has her common sense gone when she needed it the most? Surely she is not so far gone that her sanity is unsalvageable… is what she likes to believe. But the truth smacks her in the face with his presence, and the only way of explanation is just that… she must have lost her mind somewhere to be loving this man's touch. Her stomach twists in conflicting knots. One part of her longed for him, yet the other screams at her to flee, to save herself from… what?

"A prey can never escape from the hunter, and you can never hide from me."

Words whispers into her ear in deep tenor, sending a shiver down her back. Then she feels a hand worm into her jean's pocket and retreats. Eyes that must have slide shut during the ordeal flies open and she glares at the slowly straightening man and what appears to be the palm-sized bag of medication she picked up earlier that day from her workplace in his hand. How does he know about the pellets she has no idea, but she intends to get it, and her dreamless sleep back.

But just as she opens her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, he places an index finger to her lower lip and run the pad of said finger carefully from one corner to the other.

She isn't prepared for the endless bursts of sweet and light bitterness in her mouth. The creaminess of cocoa melting on her tongue sends her taste buds into hyperdrive; the smooth, rich texture of dark chocolate fused with something she cannot identify only intensifies as the bubble of sugary goodness continue to explode in her mouth. Her eyes widens as the desirable scent of chocolate reach her nostrils, enhancing the experience all the more. Her previous anger forgotten, she can only look at him with astonishment and disbelief as he lowers his hand. The strong flavor still lingers on her tongue when he gives her a self-satisfaction smirk.

"A fair trade for the occasion."

She can't even utter a word as he step back and gives her a long look before disappearing in a violent whirl of black feathers. Then as if the world decides to right itself, all the diminished music and clattering of glasses returns with a vengeance and the previous veil of fading black lifted to reveal the club in its full glory once more.

"Sakura, there you are! I've been looking for you for the past fifteen minutes! Just where on Earth did you manage to hide in this club of mine?"

Shaking herself from stupor, she turns towards the owner of the feminine voice and finds herself under the scrutinizing gaze of her friend. She offers a weak smile, though inwardly, she is still shaking.

"Oh, here and there."

A look of disbelief is tossed her way, but the speculating gleam is short living as Ino makes her way to her side.

"Choji's told me you are heading back? I can have Shika drive you."

"It's fine, Ino. I'll just grab a taxi outside the door."

"But it's three-thirteen!"

A heartfelt amusement ebbed up, and the smile on her face strengthens if only a little. "Ino, we've been crazier than this."

"True… Fine, but make sure you don't wait too long on the streets for a cab, and if strangers approach you, just come back into the club. The bouncers aren't there just for show, you know?"

Her heart jumps at the word _stranger_, but she hide her reaction away and feigns exasperation with a wry sigh, "Ino, I'm twenty-six, well on my way to a midlife crisis. I don't think a stranger would want to lure me away with a piece of candy, even if it's Halloween." Though it is already too late for her case…

A look of worry is quickly censored on the pretty blonde's face. "Well, whatever you say." A look over bare shoulders, and Ino returns her attention onto her. "Look, I need to head back. This place still got a couple more hours to go before shut down. Give me a call when you get home, you hear?"

Nodding obediently, she watches as her friend makes her way back to the bar, stopping on the way to socialize with a customer, before a held breath expels from her lungs. The smile slips from her face as she slowly turns towards the entrance, but a twinge of pain shot through both of her palms pulls her short, until she realizes her fists has been clenched tight the entire time.

Uncurling her bunched fist, her mind slowly registered the source of a tickling sensation aside from the dull pain. Her breath hitches. Even under the dim, neon purple lighting, she can still make out the weightless token lying innocently in her hand.

A single glossy, obsidian feather. The sweetness on the roof of her mouth.

_You will never be rid of me._

… Just what has she gotten herself into?

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A/N: This is essentially the product of procrastination at its finest. Quite the last minute thing, I'll have to say. As for the plot, or the lack-thereof, it originally belongs to a PWP I thought of one day, though as you can see, I'm still not quite ready for an all-out, M-rated chapter. And since this is my first time writing fantasy, I wouldn't want the mature contents to overshadow other elements anyway.

So for my first try at something neither canon or AU, I hope it turns out readable- sans the ridiculous amount of error I haven't the time to edit. I'll most definitely be looking over this some time this week. As late as it is, this is written for Halloween, and for those who are curious, Itachi is the 'nightmare' starring in Sakura's dream.

I'm opting for a rating T for this story at the moment, hopefully I am right on my guess. And if not, then the rating for this will go up to M.

Hope you still enjoyed the read regardless.

Envo 11/01


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